


Hermione’s Pendulum

by AuroraRose2081



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraRose2081/pseuds/AuroraRose2081
Summary: Justice belongs to those who claim it, but let the claimant beware lest he create new injustice by his claim and thus set the bloody pendulum of revenge into its inexorable motion. - Frank HerbertHow far must the pendulum swing before the one who dreams of greatness but cannot achieve it, and the one who achieves greatness at the expense of their humanity become one in the same?[Time Travel] [Crossposted on Wattpad]
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

Tom Riddle dreamed of greatness. He dreamed of surpassing his peers — no — the entire world even, which seemed so determined to keep him chained to his pathetic heritage. Tom knew he was destined to become great. The universe owed him a debt; one which he was certain to one day cash in. 

Let it be known that Tom Riddle was certainly no ordinary boy. No. He was special. He had done things, strange, magical things that no other boy could even conceive. He could make them all crumble. Yes, he certainly could. But not yet. The time was not ripe; he was still only a boy. An incredible boy, perhaps, but a boy none the less. Tom knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that something grand was sure to happen to him. The universe was merely waiting...biding its time just for him.

Tom smiled at the thought. What a picture it would be to see the very fabric of time and space bending around him, waiting for just the right moment to pay its debts. His mother was weak. His father — though Tom had never met him — even more so. They were pathetic, and the universe would hardly blink if they merely vanished like all the others. But Tom, he would make the stars dance. He would wear the night sky around his shoulders like the finest of silk capes, lined with the ocean surf as fur. The moon would be his crown, and the Earth? 

The Earth did not matter. 

All of the little people; they would he his subjects. Tom could imagine it, siting upon his throne, watching them all scurry about like the ants they were. He would surpass them all...he would usurp them. Usurp destiny itself. It would be him. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

He would someday rule them all, and they would rue the day which they dared abandoned him. When he was a man; when no one could ever call him boy or child ever again, that is when he would become king. And if they would not make him their king, he would simply force them to. 

The man in star and moon cloaks had opened his eyes. Yes. The old man had shown him magic; magic like his. It's true he was not the only one, but he would be the most powerful one. The stranger had told him to pack his things; said that he would return. Tom was still a boy, and he had hopes that he would be taken away from here. Taken away to learn, to become great. Yet the man in cloaks did not return. 

Rather, a woman came for him. 

It was the middle of the afternoon; the sunlight had broken through a hazy cloud cover and highlighted the room in gold. Yet she loomed in the doorway like the blackest of shadows. Tom sat on his bed, the tickle of dread catching on his back teeth when she suddenly appeared and he addressed her. 

"Who are you?" 

She moved slowly, inching her way across the floor. She was ugly, her pale skin like paper which was stretched thin across protruding bones. Tom, young as he was, knew she was no doubt beautiful once, her bush of chestnut curls more like a nest resting atop her scalp. But now, in the moment, she was like a ghost, her dark marble eyes locked onto him as the floorboards creaked with each step. Rising to face her, Tom was not weak nor afraid. 

"I said, who are you?" 

Her eyes narrowed at him, though words did not pass her lips. She regarded him, him, the one who was destined to be great, as though he were the most unsavory thing she had ever set eyes on. Her lip, chapped and dry, twisted into a horrible scowl. It was an expression of hatred. She examined him up and down, from his clothes to his face, and saw nothing in him which made her soften. 

She despised him. 

And Tom had little idea why. He stilled as she removed something hidden from inside her pocket. A long, slender thing which fit into her hand just so. The bearded man, who Tom wished would appear now to chase the specter away, had one. Even the false magician who had once come to perform silly slight of hand held such a thing. A wand, was it called? 

"Are you one of them?" Tom asked simply, barricading his fear up inside as he had done for his entire life, "you are like the bearded man?" 

She, as Tom expected, said nothing. Instead she merely scowled harder...deeper. Her grip tightened on the thing in her hand, and the one currently unoccupied found something resting at her collar. Tom couldn't see it, but he could make out the golden rings which formed concentric circles under her fingers. She clutched the object hard, so hard her knuckles were an even more ghostly shade then the rest of her. 

Then it was done. 

She said nothing...but he was dead. Just like that, in a flash of green, Tom Riddle was dead. He felt nothing, not even a heartbeat. She didn't release her grip on the pendant she wore; but lowered her wand to her side. She observed him, knelt down beside his corpse to observe what she had done. He was dead. Cold like ice, his lifeless eyes watched as her grimace faded into a passive expression of grief. Her brows furrowed, and she appeared pained as something strange happened. 

She looked deeply ill. 

Yet it was not because of the death she had caused. No. No it certainly wasn't that. Where Tom was, wherever he was, he could feel it. The splitting of a soul in two. The loss of something far greater then life. Then she rose to stand, slipping her wand back into the interior of her pocket. She took the pendant in two fingers, staring at it for a long moment. She glanced a look back at him. 

Dead. 

And then vanished.


	2. Like A Moonlit Corpse

Minerva McGonagall had a strong dislike for the beginning of term — particularly this year. The quiet of Summer vacation was always a wonderful reprieve from the stresses which came with wrangling hoards of overly excited, and often overly rambunctious students. And that reprieve was merely a few hours away from ending. Leaning a bit to casually in her favorite high backed chair, Minerva watched her favorite feather quill scrawl end notes on her year long agenda for the Transfiguration students. 

Her mind though was not on the plans which had been rolling around in her thoughts throughout July and August, but the strange feeling she was having. At first, she thought perhaps it was the knowledge that both Harry James and Ronald Weasley, troublesome boys on their own, would be attending for their first year at the same time. It was bad enough having to deal with so many Weasley boys, but one more plus the godson of notorious troublemaker Sirius Black, was seen by McGonagall as a nightmare waiting to happen. 

But as the bright summer days turned into long warm nights, and she reconciled with the idea of her dear friends children attending this term, the unusual feeling of something missing — or rather — something off, didn't subside. Minerva's first thought of course was to consult Albus on the matter, but then, he often shared her intuitions on these sorts of things. Certainly he of all wizards would confide in her if he too had reservations about the start of the new school year? 

Shaking her head, Minerva waved a hand as the last period was dotted on her scroll, allowing the quill to finally rest. She wondered if, perhaps, she was merely being overly sensitive? After all, she hadn't yet reached the age which one would consider her 'past her prime'. Not like Albus often said as he tangled his fingers in the depths of his own white beard, laughing at himself as though it were somehow hilarious. Finding it in her to roll her eyes behind half-moon spectacles, Minerva sent the scroll away for filing as a long, drawn out sigh left her throat. 

Perhaps she would return to her room for a cup of tea? 

Except that wouldn't happen, as the long time Professor felt the ripple of the wards. At first, Minerva was alarmed. After all, a threat to Hogwarts School was no laughing matter. But the magical tickle was not one of alarm or danger, rather one alerting the staff to a new arrival. But that couldn't be. Hogwarts didn't simply let anyone pass though it's gates. It was highly protected. And as far as Minerva knew, no one had scheduled a visitor when the students would be arriving in mere hours. 

Rising from her seat, McGonagall found herself hurrying but not quite running towards the front hall. Here, the shadow that was Severus Snape loomed by Dumbledore's right shoulder, with Madame Pomfrey at his opposite side. Pamona Sprout and Filius Flitwick were entering the hall, just as Minerva was. 

"Should we be worried about a possible attack?" She asked immediately, comfortable broaching the subject up front as beating about the bush was a waste of all of their time, "do you sense who has come here, Albus?" 

"I cannot say." The headmaster answered calmly, "but I don't believe we, or the students, are in any danger." 

"How could anyone have gotten past the wards? They are nearly impossible to pass without proper vetting." Flitwick complained, clearly offended as he was one of the few who kept close tabs on the physical management of the wards. 

"Your work, dear friend, is not in question," Dumbledore soothed, crooked fingers vanishing into the droopy sleeves of his finest dress robe, "from what I can assume, Hogwarts recognizes this newcomer...as a student." 

"A...a student?" 

"That would he most improper," Snape scowled, arms folded tightly against his chest, "all students should be on the train, and if a student was coming by some other means, the staff would have been notified." 

"Yes, quite strange indeed, Severus. I have sent Fawkes out to find the disturbance. I trust his judgement, and if it's true someone has arrived unexpectedly, we will know."

Nodding their heads, Dumbledore sent Pamona and Flitwick back to their common rooms to continue prepping for students arrival, while quietly convincing Severus back to his dungeon. Only Poppy and Minerva remained, waiting on the front steps while Dumbledore hummed a little tune on his croaky breath. Eventually, the Phoenix appeared on the starlit sky, flapping his great wings. The song-like trill echoed in the trees as Minerva shivered. 

"I believe Fawkes has found something. Come, we will investigate." 

Minerva didn't really want to investigate. After all, the feeling of something off had once again begun to tug at her gut. But she hadn't been placed in Gryffindor for cowardice, so she followed close at Albus's heels. Poppy kept easy pace with them, keeping track of their guide who swooped in and out of deep shadows, occasionally silhouetted by the stars. Soon, the trio made their way down the wooden slats leading to the closest shore of the Black Lake. The white moon made the ink like water glisten, and under any other circumstance Minerva would have thought it beautiful. 

But at Poppy's sudden loud and startled gasp, Minerva looked immediately to where Fawkes circled. A figure lay sprawled on the black pebbled shore. A long tentacled arm was retreating back to the depths, leaving the body half submerged in the shallows. As they quickened their pace, Minerva was certain she was looking down on a moonlit corpse.

Pale, nearly white skin was drawn gauntly over sharp cheekbones, shoulders and elbows. Obsidian ringlets created a river of hair, casting the young face against a blackish, eerie halo. She couldn't have been far beyond Hogwarts age, yet appeared to be so much older with how close to death she appeared. Not far away, a wand lay poking out of the sand, still whole and preserved. While Poppy began to fuss over the girl, fingers quivering, Dumbledore gently pulled the artifact from the shore and held it in his hands. He seemed pensive for a moment, furry brows drawing together worriedly, but soon eased back into his usual passive expression. 

"Is...is she...?" Minerva couldn't seem to finish her words as Poppy shook her head, already casting whatever emergency charms she knew over the still body, "how did she get here?" 

"An apparition gone wrong, perhaps," Albus suggested, stroking his beard as he looked out at the black lake, "or perhaps something else..." 

"Minerva, Albus."

Glancing down at where the nurse matron still knelt, she had stopped her charm casting and now had a startled look on her face. Going to her immediately, Minerva recognized the concentric golden rings her friend now cradled in her palm. 

"It...it can't be," Minerva breathed, lowering herself down to get a better look at the illegal artifact. It had many similar qualities to the one locked away in her office, but the hourglass was broken, marking the time turner as 'dead'. Waving a hand over it, Minerva became even more confused, "this Time Turner, it has been dead for nearly 50 years." 

"A family heirloom perhaps?" Poppy suggested quietly, continuing her charm work, "she certainly couldn't have traveled with a broken Time Turner." 

No. That didn't seem possible. Yet still, Minerva didn't feel so sure. Turning to Albus, he was merely staring out at the lake again, the strangers wand still in hand. 

"Albus, what shall we do? We can't keep her here. And the students will be arriving in a few hours!" 

It took three beats for the man to answer. Just three, almost like he wasn't worried hardly at all. 

"She will be nursed back to health here at Hogwarts, then when she is strong enough, will answer our questions herself." 

"But she could be dangerous," Minerva complained, "not just anyone could appear here, the wards don't allow apparition within' the grounds. This...it should be impossible." 

"Ah, I don't believe she did apparate within the grounds," Albus mused, waving an arm to where a black, squiggling mass made ripples in the water. It was something McGonagall had never thought of. The wards of Hogwarts School extended to the very edges of the Black Lake and some ways to it's shallow interior. Few would know that those same wards did not extend to the middle of the lake. After all, one wouldn't choose to apparate into a deep, seemingly endless body of glacier temperature water. Even fewer would recognize the middle of the lake as the closest apparition point to Hogwarts. 

"You...you think she was aware of the boundaries of the school?" Minerva concluded simply; she wasn't dense, "but how?" 

"The wards recognized her as a student, did they not?" 

"Yes, I suppose so. But not a student I recognize." 

"Yes. It is curious," Dumbledore mused aloud, once again finding his beard with his fingers unoccupied by the strangers wand, "this wand she carries, it has seen much. It feels older then it should."

"How do you mean?" 

"There is a stubbornness in it, and an unusual sense of loyalty to it's owner for a wand with a Dragon Heartstring core. It has left her hands few times; I can already sense it rejecting me." 

Another shock. Albus Dumbledore was known, at least to his staff, to hold the Elder Wand. He did not often use it in front of the students or others, but it was truly an unbeatable sort. Minerva had seen it herself. The headmaster had told Minerva once that he could wield any wand with little issue, as the Elder Wand was the master of all wands combined. So mere idea of any wand, one belonging to a girl barely into adulthood no less, rejecting the owner of one of the Deathly Hallows, left the woman with little to say, "I believe our guest has much she will not say when she wakes." 

"Should we not test the wand? Perhaps it could tell us what spell was last cast?" 

"We shall...but not tonight." Waving his hand, the unfamiliar wand vanished into Dumbledore's long sleeve as Poppy finally maneuvered their new arrival onto a summoned stretcher, "we still have much to do before the students arrive. Lily and James will no doubt be tired from chaperoning the train ride here." 

Watching the headmaster amble after Poppy, who was using her wand to levitate the stretcher back up the narrow path and back to the school, Minerva glanced out at the Black Lake again. Her bad feeling had tripled. Yet as the shrill whistle of the train coming around the last bend into Hogsmeade Station echoed across the hills, the woman sighed heavily. 

Hopefully, this feeling, this intuition she had was just that. A bad...bad feeling.


	3. Nightmares of Strangers

Harry James Potter was the only son of Lily and James Potter, Professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Growing up, Harry often spent the long Summer nights exploring the decades old castle, or testing his luck in the Forbidden Forest. His best mate Ron Weasley often accompanied him, and they had on more then one occasion gotten into trouble with Mr. Filtch the caretaker. When not at Hogwarts driving the staff to wits end with his endless shenanigans, he spent his time at the Burrow with the Weasley clan. Mrs. Weasley was practically a second mother to him by now, and he loved spending days practicing his broomstick flying, or helping Ron at de-gnoming the garden. Harry and Ron often found the Weasley twins, Fred and George, good company. It was them, and only them, who taught them how to make mischief without being caught, and often shared their knowledge about secret passages which Harry could explore when he once again returned to Hogwarts.

But this year was different.

Rather then simply using the Floo network to get to school with his Mum and Dad, Harry Potter jostled with the Hogwarts Express as it rounded the final bend towards the Castle. It didn't matter to Harry that he had seen it and it's wonders thousands of times before. He was excited to take it all in again, this time, from the eyes of a student. And this year, he was finally to be sorted. The sorting ceremony was the one thing Harry had never seen, as he was always kept away from Hogwarts on the first of September.

"...I'm a bit worried I may end up in Hufflepuff," Ron said, screwing up his freckled face and playing with his cloak which was two sizes larger then his lanky frame, "can you imagine it? Me, a Puff."

"Hufflepuff isn't so bad," Harry insisted, frowning at the Dumbledore card which came out of his last Chocolate Frog pack, "Dumbledore again. You'd think they'd have more variety in these."

"My whole family have been in Gryffindor. Fred is absolutely sure I'll be the one to break the streak."

"That's silly," Harry insisted, tossing the card to the side with the others, "it's better then being in Slytherin."

"Nasty lot those snakes," Ron agreed, "there isn't a single good one of em',"

"Aunt Andromeda was a Slytherin," Harry defended, though it was all in good fun, "so was Uncle Regulus, and bloody hell, even the great Merlin was a Slytherin."

"Alright, alright. I get it, not all snakes are totally bad. Just...most of them are."

Laughing at that, Harry and Ron were interrupted by Fred and George, grinning their signature Cheshire grins. Grins that normally meant they had done something particularly heinous.

"What did you two do?" Harry asked quizzically, folding his arms as he sat back

"Nothing at all." Said the twin on the right, who Harry assumed was Fred.

"Just a game of exploding snap with Longbottom." The twin on the left spoke next.

"Quite a game really."

"It was..." "a blast." They finished at the same time, high fiving one another as Ron groaned.

"Oh no, you didn't use the special snap deck with Neville, did you?" he complained, turning to Harry who felt a bit clueless, "Fred and George made a new card deck over the Summer. Just about took my fingers off the last time we played."

"Just for fun, eh, Ronnikinz?" the left twin said, having taken the place of his brother on the right, which made Harry confused as to which twin was which.

"But we best be off though. Your mum is hot on our tails, Harry."

"And she's got your temper."

Laughing as the twins quickly went on their way down the train, Harry smiled at his mum who soon had reached their car. Her red hair was messy, cheeks flushed as she ducked inside to glower at them.

"Where'd they go?"

"Who, Professor?" Ron asked innocently, both boys struggling not to laugh as the woman glared even more intensely at them.

"Don't 'who' me, you two. When this train gets into station, Harry I want you to take Neville up to the hospital wing at once. I don't need his Grandmother hearing he nearly lost a finger before even reaching the school."

"But mum, what about the sorting? We can't miss it."

"There will be plenty of time to get back to the Great Hall if you don't dilly-dally." Mrs. Potter insisted, "Mrs. Weasley is going to get a load of it this time."

As the door to the car closed with a soft clanking noise, Harry groaned unhappily. But not being one to disobey his mother, he gathered up his things and said goodbye to Ron. He found Neville a few doors down, his hands being tended to by a few girls with whom he was sitting. They were very pretty, twins Harry knew already, along with another dark skinned boy who was completely opposite the pudgy Neville Longbottom. 

"Hey Neville," Harry greeted, "hey everyone. I'm Harry, Professor Potter asked me to take you up to the Hospital wing once we get to Hogwarts."

Harry knew Neville well enough, as his mum and dad often visited between their long trips around the world. They offered to take Neville with them, but he much preferred staying at home, and lived with his Grandmother most months out of the year. Right now, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were in Romania, visiting Charlie Weasley who was working with dragons there. Neville admitted to Harry that he was very scared of Dragons, and therefore had decided to stay home to attend Hogwarts.

The others in the car introduced themselves as Padma and Parvati Patil, and Dean Thomas. Harry gladly held conversation with the small group until the Hogwarts Express came into the station, and shared a little boat with Dean and Neville as they crossed the black lake with both Professor Potters leading them in their own head boat. Harry hadn't seen much of his father during the ride; he had been supervising in the older students cars.

Hogwarts glittered above them, the castle's many windows shining even more brightly then the stars. Neville insisted he saw a monster in the water, but Harry refused to tell him that a giant squid indeed lived within. Upon reaching the underwater cave where the first year students were led up into the heart of the castle, Harry had Neville take a different turn. The walk to the hospital wing wasn't a long one, and as he banged on the door, he smiled at the kind matron who answered.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Hello, Madame Pomfrey," Harry greeted the woman kindly, "Professor asked me to bring Neville here. There was an incident on the express with an exploding snap deck."

"Not even sorted and already causing trouble." the woman chided, "come in, this won't be but a moment Mr.?"

"Longbottom, ma'am. Neville Longbottom."

"Right them, come this way dear. Harry, stay here so you may both return to the Great Hall together."

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey."

Watching the two vanish into a back office, the hospital wing fell quiet again. Glass balls filled with fire illuminated the high walls, and moonlight cast lines of pristine white beds into a chilly blue light. At first Harry thought to remain close to the door, but he hated staying still for to long and soon began to wander. He'd spent plenty of nights here before, many after falling off his broom, or having to close a shave with the Whomping Willow. Harry didn't expect anyone else to be here other then he and Neville, so a sudden whimper made him jump.

Hidden behind half pulled privacy curtains nearby was a figure. They were thrashing; whimpering and crying out weakly for something. Mumbles formed incoherent words, ones which made Harry shiver. Without thinking about repercussions, Harry approached the stranger curiously. She was pale, her skin matching the bleached color of the sheets which once covered her form, but were now on the floor. Harry's eyes caught the tail end of a deep, dark colored scar poking out from under the collar of her shirt - one that was practically purple in the dark - as well as the glittering of a golden pendant strung around her neck. Her teeth clenched, and the muscles in her neck constricted to create a façade of unbearable pain. Having suffered through his own night terrors growing up, often fears of losing his parents, or Ron, or anyone else he held dear to him, Harry felt sympathy well within his gut. At least in his nightmares his mum and dad always came to comfort him after.

This stranger had no one at all. 

Reaching out a hand, Harry very gently placed it on the woman's arm. She didn't respond to the touch right away, continuing to live out the nightmare.

"Hey, shhh, you're safe here," Harry whispered to her, carefully squeezing his fingers to let the stranger know someone was with her, "it'll be alright."

"...H...Harry?"

Her voice startled him; almost as much as hearing his own name on her lips, "Harry...p-please," she choked on her words, struggling to breathe through hard hiccupping gasps as she began to cry, "please forgive me. Please."

Not sure how to proceed, Harry found himself nodding. He didn't know this woman; he didn't know what had happened to land her here like this. But she was pleading for forgiveness...forgiveness from him.

"I...I forgive you." he whispered to her, just to try and calm her down. Harry, after all, wasn't that uncommon of a name. Maybe it was just a coincidence that she said his name. Maybe she was dreaming of another Harry; a Harry that was far away or whom she had lost? "I forgive you. Please go back to sleep."

And she did. Her thrashing ceased; the arm which he held shifted into a better position. There were tears still streaming down her face, but the stranger had calmed, and was once again drifting in to a deep, quiet slumber. Carefully, he lifted the blankets back up to cover her. Letting his arms fall back to his side, Harry stared at the woman in the bed with a frown. She suddenly seemed so familiar to him...

"Mr. Potter? Come away from there at once."

Turning around to face Madame Pomfrey, she had Neville's hand all bandaged up as she scowled at him, "what are you doing, disturbing one of my patients?"

"I wasn't ma'am," Harry explained, glancing over his shoulder at the girl who was now fast asleep and quiet again, "her blanket had fallen off. I thought she looked cold so I fixed it."

Madame Pomfrey looked ready to chide him again, but her features soon softened as she nodded.

"You're a good sort, Mr. Potter. Please take Mr. Longbottom and yourself back down to the Great Hall, you shouldn't be to late for the sorting if you hurry."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry insisted, not keen on getting on the Matron's good side on the first day of term, "c'mon Neville. I know a short cut back to the great hall. You aren't afraid of the dark, are you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone interested in this story! Please leave comments, as they inspire me to write more chapters! :)


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